


Knitwit

by what_a_dork_fish



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alec doesn't really do much I'M SO SORRY, Eve is a good friend, Fluff, Knitting, Pining, Yarn shop AU, but fluff, vague angst idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 20:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10316336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: This is all timetospy's fault.The one where James Bond owns a yarn shop and Q is his most loyal customer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So if you aren't on tumblr timetospy made a yarn-Bond and it's really cute and it inspired me tangentially because I have no idea what life is anymore anyway enjoy <3

Q smiled as he stepped through the door and James’ head whipped around. James grinned at him, then turned back to his customer, a little old lady who seemed mesmerized by James’ pectorals beneath his button-up. Q stifled a snicker and went immediately to the corner of the shop where his brand waited.

Well, it wasn’t _his_ brand; it was his friend Eve’s. She’d gone all the way to South America to recruit alpaca farmers for her yarn empire. Her family was in the dye business; it was easy for Eve and her sisters to make up new and interesting colors for her alpaca-wool yarn, and she bought dye from all over the globe. Q loved seeing what new colors she’d found, and here, in James’ shop, was the best, most affordable selection.

Q was knitting another sweater to sell, and he needed a bright, bright green for the black background. And, wouldn’t you know it, there were three balls left of an electric green that would be perfect.

He also spotted a deep maroon that he fell in love with immediately. So he scooped up three skeins of that, as well.

He was out of buttons. He snagged a basket and dumped the yarn and the packet of wooden buttons in it, then went looking for the patterns.

When he was finished, the pecs-obsessed old lady was done and leaving. James smiled again as Q approached.

“You haven’t been in in a while,” James commented, starting to ring everything up. “Working more lately?”

“Yes, and it’s cutting into my knitting,” Q answered with a sigh. “I still haven’t finished that doll for my nephew.”

“How long have you been working on that? A year?” James teased with a smirk.

Q slapped his shoulder and scowled. “Only two months, you arse.”

They bantered a little, Q lingering at the counter with his bag in hand. He liked talking to James. He was the only man in Q’s life who didn’t sniff at his knitting; and he was barely in his life at all. But Q could forget around James. That was a wonderful thing. And James wasn’t half-bad with computers—he kept up with Q easily.

Someone cleared their throat pointedly. Q glanced to the side, surprised, to see a man and a woman glaring at him as if he was purposefully keeping them from saving the world. He mumbled an apology, suddenly embarrassed, and said a quick goodbye to James. He looked disappointed—far more disappointed than usual. But Q didn’t have time to ponder; checking his phone revealed that he’d been talking to James for nigh on an hour, and he had to get home quickly before his siblings and their kids arrived.

He ran.

~~~\0/~~~

James was pleasant to the customers after Q, but without the anticipation of seeing that handsome face, he lacked the enthusiasm present earlier. He missed Q already.

Damn it, Bond, wake up! Just because Q was beautiful, witty, and intelligent didn’t mean James got to slack off. Daydreaming wasn’t helpful in the slightest. Especially not with a shop to run.

It was a hectic day, full of rescuing things from small hands and sticky fingers, trying to ignore the increasingly desperate flirtations of at least three older women, and trying to find teachers for the advanced knitting classes. Most of the people who applied weren’t at the right skill level, or couldn’t keep a fixed schedule, or just rubbed him the wrong way.

Remembering talking to Q about his projects, James sighed quietly and wondered when he’d get up the courage to ask if Q could do a few classes. Maybe the next time he came in.

“What’s got you sighing like a lovelorn puppy?” asked a sly voice.

“Hello, Alec,” James greeted his best friend dryly, turning from rearranging a rack of knitting needles. “How’s your job at the docks?”

Alec shrugged and leaned on a table displaying some felted bags made by local artists. “Interesting,” he answered vaguely. Since James knew for a fact that there had been a fire in a dockside warehouse that had been found to be full of drugs, he also knew things had been more than “interesting”. James had always suspected Alec of being a pyromaniac with a bit of a vigilante streak, but he would never tell. Not unless a fire harmed someone. Alec knew and respected this.

They had many unspoken agreements between them. Avoiding the subject of James’ crushes was, sadly, not one of them.

“So, talk. He did come by, didn’t he?” Alec grinned as James remained silent. “How long did you chat him up this time?”

“An hour or so,” James grumbled, feeling both pleased with himself and a little guilty.

Alec laughed. “Bloody hell, mate! And he _still_ hasn’t taken the hint? You may have to move on the Plan E.”

“No. No, no, no.” James ran a hand over his hair, grimacing. “I’m not going to embarrass him like that. I’ll just go with Plan B for now.”

“You’re finally going to ask him to be the instructor? Excellent! Can I watch?”

“ _No_ ,” James repeated forcefully, glaring as Alec grinned innocently. “I want to get him comfortable first, and he won’t be if you’re around.”

“Aww, Jamesy, you wound me.”

“My heart bleeds buttermilk.”

“You stole that line.”

“Certainly I did. Why are you here?”

“Wanna close early and get a pint?”

James hesitated, then sighed heavily. “Yeah, alright.”

~~~\0/~~~

Q’s brother Michael was five years younger than him and had two small daughters, Caroline and Eleanor. They were five and three, respectively, and _adored_ Q. He loved them too, very much, but their mother was convinced that, because Q was gay, he would somehow “corrupt” them. So Q’s brother had to promise to never leave them alone with Q for a single moment just to let them near him. Q still played games with them on his modified tablet and taught them basic maths and pretended it didn’t hurt when he had to gently remind them not to say the word “queer” as an insult.

Q’s sister Sarah was two years older than him and had three sons. Joseph was fourteen, Edward was ten, and little David was six. They loved their uncle too, mostly because he built cool gadgets for them and knitted them intricate scarves. Joseph was the one Q was knitting a doll for; he collected interesting dolls, though he had to hide his hobby from his friends. Joseph was also bisexual, and was bullied for being “a gay liar”, so Q was especially protective of him.

And getting all five children together was… interesting. Because, while most people would expect the boys to be rowdy and lord it over the younger girls, they were actually calm and kind, and the girls were rambunctious little imps. David and Caroline saw no difference in their ages and played together quite cheerfully, while Joseph and Edward took turns watching Eleanor.

Q and his siblings sat at the kitchen table (quickly cleared of technological debris) and watched the children. Q knit the sleeve of the black-and-green jumper, Michael played with his magnets, and Sarah wrote code.

“So do you have a boyfriend?” Michael asked, glancing at Q sideways.

“No,” Q answered absently, beginning to bind off. “There was this one bloke, but we didn’t work out. He said knitting was for old women and that it was him or the cat. Naturally, I broke it off.”

“Naturally,” Sarah agreed smugly, glancing up at the top of the bookshelf, where the cat she had brought Q ten years ago laid in all her tawny-gold glory.

“Is there anyone you’re currently eyeing?” Michael pressed. Q threw him a glare.

“If you’re only asking because Jenny told you to—“

“Not at all,” Michael replied, raising both hands in a placating gesture. “Mum’s getting worried, is all.”

Q sighed. He couldn’t tell them about James. They’d want to know every detail, and he wasn’t ready to divulge anything beyond name and profession.

Oh, sod it.

“The man who runs the yarn shop,” he blurted, staring at the sleeve in his lap as his face and ears began to burn. “He’s… I don’t know if he’s flirting with me or not. We talk a lot when he doesn’t have other customers.”

Michael and Sarah began to grin slowly, identical grins. Q didn’t see, too busy inspecting the sleeve for mistakes.

“What do you talk about?” Sarah asked sweetly. Now Q looked up to glare at her.

“Stuff,” he answered stiffly.

“What kind of stuff?” Michael inquired.

“Just… stuff,” Q replied with a helpless shrug. “Yarn. Knit versus crochet. His aunt taught him both before she passed on. Sometimes we talk about the latest computers, or which games we bought and why. He likes Legend of Zelda. Once we argued about whether toggles were better than buttons. Today we talked for an hour about… um… I can’t remember.” He couldn’t remember the topic, but he remembered James’ smile, always there, tucked in the corner of his mouth, and the way his arm muscles had flexed when Q slapped them, and the beautiful blue of his eyes. He can never recall the lines on his face or the way his ears stick out just the tiniest bit; it’s always his chuckle, his voice, his turn of phrase, his dry, skewering humor.

Q sighed heavily. “I really like him,” he muttered. “Damn.”

“UNCLE Q, YOU DID A SWEAR!” David shrieked, pointing at Q.

“UNCLE Q DID A SWEAR!” Caroline yelled too, jumping to her feet and running over to climb into Q’s lap. “You gotta put a pound in the swears jar!”

“I don’t have a swear-jar,” Q told her, fighting a smile. “Although I am sorry for swearing in front of you.”

“You don’t have a swears jar?” Caroline gasped, eyes wide.

“Where does your money go when you swear?” David demanded, trotting over to hang off Q’s knee.

“It doesn’t go anywhere,” Q explained. “It stays in my wallet, because I live alone so there’s no one to be offended by my swearing.”

“So I can swear if I’m alone?” David asked.

Q shrugged. “Ask your mother,” he replied.

“Only when you are _completely_ alone,” Sarah told her son sternly. He nodded gravely, accepting the rule.

They all had to leave before long, and Q hugged all of them, even Joseph and Edward, who both pulled faces but allowed it. Edward even hugged back, a little. Then they all trooped out of the flat, leaving Q to his loneliness.

He set about picking things up and putting them away. Ada stood from her spot on top of the bookshelf, stretched, and delicately leapt down, landing on Q’s back as he bent over to pick up a forgotten knitting needle. He winced, but didn’t move until she had flowed off his back to the couch, where she sat and puffed out her chest-floof, demanding pets. Q smiled and knelt before her, petting her gently and giving scritches. How could he be lonely, with this majestic darling to keep him company?

She grew tired of pets and batted at his nose gently, claws sheathed. He smiled wider and withdrew his hand.

“You’re the most beautiful creature in existence, you know that?” he murmured affectionately. She purred and blinked slowly. “Of course you do. That’s part of why you’re beautiful. It’s your confidence. You beautiful lady, you.”

He continued to murmur to her as he stood and picked her up, cuddling her to his chest. She rubbed her ears on his jaw and purred and purred and purred.

~~~\0/~~~

“Get off’a me,” someone grunted groggily.

James groaned and forced his eyelids open a crack. The light was too bright; he shut his eyes tightly and clung to the warm surface underneath him.

“James I swear if you don’t get off of me right now I will puke all over you.”

He tried to roll off the surface and fell to the floor with an undignified yelp. He just laid there, eyes shut tight, focusing on breathing while his stomach roiled.

A hand landed heavily on his face, patted his jaw, and retreated. “You’ll be alright,” Alec croaked. The creak and crunch of old springs, and the shuffle of socked feet along the wooden floor. Alec had gotten up, and was—hopefully—going to get them both a tall glass of tepid water and maybe a lorry full of aspirin. What had _happened_ last night?

James knew exactly what had happened. Some new kids from the college had decided to challenge the reigning champion, and James had beaten them easily. Alec had only joined in to show off. He couldn’t hold his liquor nearly as well as James. But he knew his own limit, so he probably didn’t feel as much like a dead thing as James did.

A toe nudged his ear. He made a noise that sounded like “Nnrgh” and turned his head away, but the toe nudged him again, and Alec said heavily, “Get up, old man, or I won’t give you this water.”

Water. Water sounded heavenly. James rolled over on to his side, carefully. Then, just as carefully, he rolled on to his stomach, pushing himself up on his hands and knees. He sat back on his heels and groaned as the shift in altitude did unwelcome things to his brain. Alec held out a glass of water with a straw in it. While James guzzled the drink, Alec finished off his own, and refilled his cup from the pitcher he’d brought with him. James held out his glass entreatingly. Alec refilled it.

They sat in silence together, James on the floor, Alec on the edge of the bed. Nursing hangovers together was a steadying thing. They’d done this hundreds of times. James was never glad for company after a night of drinking, but he made an exception for his oldest friend. There was something comforting in letting his guard down in front of someone he trusted.

He realized his head was leaning against Alec’s knee. He didn’t really care. It hurt so much, it didn’t matter where it rested, as long as the resting was done on a solid surface. “I think I love him,” he mumbled.

“What?” Alec asked, sounding bewildered.

“Q. I think I love him.” James felt his eyes prickle with tears that would forever remain unshed. He hadn’t cried since Her. He wasn’t about to start again now. “Christ, my head hurts.”

“Drink your water,” Alec ordered, and his voice sounded funny, like he was hiding some other emotion. James drank dutifully, too tired to try and work through Alec’s signals.

He decided not to open the shop that day, damn the consequences. He felt like shit, he looked like shit, and he wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on shit. He’d just spend the day cleaning.

Alec called in sick and napped on James’ bed while James hobbled down the stairs to the shop and set about cleaning. First he cleaned the corners of the ceiling, then moved on to vacuuming the carpeted areas and sweeping the wooden floors. Then he rearranged the racks of merchandise, before moving on to the merchandise itself. Everything was swapped around, a perfect rainbow around the whole shop, and he lingered over every yarn, feeling the fibers and delighting in the sensations. DK, bulky, lace… synthetic, wool, merino, alpaca, blend… even the different dyes left different textures. He found himself smiling slightly as he rearranged. The smells of each tickled his nose.

He took a break to stretch and eat lunch now that his stomach was no longer trying to reject everything that entered it. Alec was still sleeping, the lump. James let him be.

Then came the needles and hooks. Plastic, steel, aluminum, wood; every size, from 0.4mm hooks to 25mm needles. Tapestry needles. Sewing needles. Thread. Buttons. He smiled fondly, remembering his argument with Q about toggles versus buttons. Was that really only a few weeks ago? Yes, Q had only been coming here for a year; they’d only been talking for six months. It felt like they’d been friends for longer. Maybe because so much had happened in six months… James didn’t let people in that easily. He just didn’t. But Q…

Someone knocked politely on the door. He frowned. The sign reading CLOSED was quite visible. He peered out the window, and blinked. A woman, dark of skin and hair, waited in the driving rain with a black umbrella and a huge black purse, wearing a bright red peacoat and navy skirt under a long, clear rain jacket. She saw him looking through the window, and waved with a cheerful smile.

It was the smile that made him recognize her, and he crossed to the door in four loping strides to open it for her. The wind drove rain in as well as the woman in red, and she smiled as James quickly shut the door behind her.

“Well! You’re every bit as handsome as they say,” was the first thing out of her mouth. Then she stuck out her hand. “Eve Moneypenny, of Eve’s Finest.”

“I know who you are,” James replied, clasping her hand warmly with a smile. “But how do you know who I am?”

“Oh, we have a mutual friend,” Moneypenny answered airily, looking around for a place to put her umbrella. James rescued the umbrella stand from behind a display and set it beside the door. Eve made use of it with a murmured thank you. Then she smiled again. “And he didn’t tell me your shop was so lovely! I can see why it’s the most popular.”

“Bet you say that to all the boys,” James teased automatically. Hey, it wasn’t his fault that Eve was beautiful.

She laughed. “Sadly, I don’t. You’re the first male I know to own a yarn shop on his own. But really, it is nice in here. Did you just clean up?”

“And rearranged. I was… not up to having customers. Had a few too many drinks last night.” That was putting it mildly, but she didn’t need to know that.

Moneypenny seemed to guess anyway—or at least she saw it on his face—because she smirked ever so slightly. “So, Mr. Bond. I know you claim to be closed, but since you have so graciously let me in anyway, may I offer you this?” She opened her ridiculously large purse and pulled out two balls of the finest, lightest yarn James had ever seen, died in a rainbow of lustrous blue-greens.

It was perfect for Q.

James accepted the yarn, smiling a little as his pulled a strand gently. Oh, yes. This would be excellent for making something for Q. He flipped through projects in his mind, discarding one after the other, until he decided that a light summer scarf would be best. Q was always cold; maybe this would be helpful. Knitted up properly, it should be light yet warm. But if he crocheted it, he could make all kinds of circular patterns… yes. Yes, he’d crochet Q a scarf with this yarn.

“Thank you,” he told Moneypenny sincerely. “I know just the person who’d appreciate this.”

“What, you’re not going to keep it for yourself?” she asked, cocking her head.

James shook his head. “I’ve got enough yarn upstairs to supply half the shop. This will be perfect for him.”

Moneypenny smiled like she knew a secret. “I wonder who the lucky man is,” she murmured, then straightened. “Right. May I help in any way? I’m waiting for my friend to text me and I’ve nothing else to do on such a dreadful day.”

“Yes, thank you,” James found himself saying. “Could you help me decide projects for the next class?”

~~~\0/~~~

Q woke up at noon, took too long in the shower, and burnt his toast. To top it all off, it was raining torrentially. He sighed heavily, patted Ada, and stepped out of the flat, tightening his scarf around his neck and pulling up the hood of his parka.

He was supposed to meet Eve for dinner at the café where they usually chatted when she was in town, but first he had to swing by James’ shop. He couldn’t remember why. Maybe he would when he got there.

Or maybe he’d forget because of James’ stupidly beautiful smile. It’d happened before.

He took the Tube because it was simply too miserable for walking. He almost dozed off standing up, but someone knocked into him and he woke with a start, mumbling some sort of placating statement when they apologized profusely. They tried to start a conversation, but Q wasn’t in the mood. And he found them—him—strangely repulsive. It wasn’t anything to do with his appearance, in fact he looked quite average; but Q felt like a disgruntled python, balling up and peeking from under a coil at the thing that he didn’t like. And the man just _would not_ take a hint and stop talking to him.

Q’s stop came. He exited the train without saying goodbye to the man who wouldn’t stop talking and inching closer than needful. He didn’t feel sorry in the slightest for being so rude.

The rain had not let up. Q ran to the bus stop and barely got there in time. The bus was packed, and Q wondered if he’d made a mistake…

Then lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, and Q decided he could take being smushed in exchange for not being out of the weather.

It was only a block from the bus stop to the shop, but Q was sopping and miserable by the time he got there. And when he saw the big red CLOSED sign he just stared at it stupidly, distress increasing in his chest until he felt like he was going to drown in emotion rather than rain.

He looked in the window, and blinked.

Was that…?

He tapped on the window, and grinned as Eve turned and smiled at him. James was a beat behind her, but his smile was just as warm, and his eyes were even more beautiful today. James hurried across the shop and opened the door.

“Get in here before you drown,” James ordered with an admonishing tone, but he was still smiling.

“Gladly,” Q sighed, stepping through the door. “I thought you were closed.”

“Not for my favorite customer. Q, this is Eve Moneypenny. She’s—“

“My best friend,” Q interrupted, wrinkling his nose at Eve, who simply smiled innocently. “Sorry.”

“Oh.” James looked between them, surprised. “Ah. Would you care to join us? We’re sorting pattern books.”

“Yes,” Q answered, a little too quickly. Anything to spend more time with James.

Eve giggled, but just turned back to the books when the men threw her curious looks.

Q had only just stepped up the table where the books were spread out when another man entered through a backdoor, scowling at the lights before turning his scowl on the small gathering in the shop.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” the man demanded grouchily.

“Because you’re a terror when you’ve just woken up,” James retorted. “Go shower, you stink like piss.”

The man growled, but turned right around and went back through the door. James sighed and shook his head. “My friend Alec,” he explained to Eve and Q. “We went to the bar last night and he drank too much. He’s been asleep all day.”

“I see,” Eve murmured, watching Q for some reason. He kept his relief hidden; for a horrible moment he’d though Alec was James’ lover. There had been affection in James’ voice even as he insulted his friend. But to hear they were _just_ friends—

Not that it mattered. James was safely out of Q’s league. Q could fancy him from a distance, but he could never confess. James might laugh at him, or try and turn him down gently and muck it up. No, better to stay friends, if they were even that.

“You really think your clientele is the kind that buys “Punk Knits”?” Q asked James, holding up the book.

James shrugged. “So far I’ve sold ten copies. You’d be surprised how many knitters were, or are, part of the punk movement.”

“And were you a punk?” Q asked curiously.

James grinned. “Hardcore.”

They talked about James’ experiences as a punk, then Eve and Q’s simultaneous rebellious phases where they tried to bring punk back to their school, but no one was interested besides teasing them.

“It was worse for Q,” Eve added, with a sideways glance at Q. She hesitated, not sure how or if she should continue.

Q made a face as James looked at him curiously. “I’m gay,” he told James frankly. “Knew since secondary school. So did everyone else.”

“I’m sorry,” James replied softly.

Q shrugged and looked down at the books again, flipping pages absently. “Doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s just embarrassing. Anyway. Who was your favorite band?”

“I was a big fan of a band from my university.” James frowned at his hands, holding a crocheting magazine. Then the frown cleared, and he said absolutely tonelessly, “Dated the singer for a while before he decided being unhappily married to a woman who hated him was better than being called queer and a faggot.”

Q had put his hand on James’ arm before he could stop himself. James smiled a little at him. “Like you said, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Q had been lying. He knew James was lying too. But there was no reason to point that out. So he said nothing.

They were all saved from having the silence grow awkward by Alec appearing again, clean and shaved and not scowling. In fact he had a relaxed smirk on his face, that widened into a grin upon gaining all their attention. “It’s almost supper time,” he pointed out. “Who wants pizza?”

~~~\0/~~~

James didn’t know how he’d convinced Q and Eve to come along for pizza, but he did. Alec and Eve walked together, chattering enthusiastically, while Q and James followed in silence. It was a comfortable silence, and James found himself longing to take Q’s hand. But that was just asking for trouble. So he put his hands in his pockets and ignored the longing.

The rain had eased, so they strolled through steadily thickening crowds. Alec and Eve slipped easily through the growing crowds, and James noted with a raised eyebrow that they were holding hands. That was fast, even for Alec. James glanced at Q, to see him staring at the clasped hands of the two in front of him with something akin to sadness.

James did it without thinking. He took his hand out of his pocket and gently took hold of Q’s own, smiling (a little nervously, he admitted to himself) as Q looked up at him, surprised.

“Wouldn’t want you getting swept away,” he explained.

Q blushed, and tightened his hand around James’. “Thank you,” he mumbled, and James got the feeling he saw right through James’ lie.

But the feeling of his cold hand in James’ hot palm was actually quite exquisite; so he said nothing and did not pull away.

The pizza place was not as full as it usually was. That was good; they got the best table, the one nearest the kitchen. Alec and Eve took their eyes off each other long enough to include James and Q in the conversation, and they teased their respective friends gently for being so quiet.

No one mentioned that their hands were still entwined under the table.

The boy who scurried up to their table couldn’t have been more than sixteen, but he took their orders competently and beamed at them all before scurrying away again. James was amused, but not more amused than he was when Alec leaned over and whispered in James’ ear, “She’s a fucking _goddess_.”

“Good luck, Romeo,” James murmured back with an evil grin, before turning away to Q. “So how’s that project for your nephew coming along?”

“I didn’t get to work on it at _all_ yesterday,” Q sighed. “My siblings and their kids came by, and I can’t show it to him without one of the little ones demanding one of their own, which I simply cannot take on yet. This is taking far longer than it should. At least I finished all the pieces of that jumper. Now I just need to block and sew them all.”

“How long did that jumper take you? Three months? Four?”

“Only two, as you well know. I can do jumpers in my sleep. It’s just details and small things that I need to be at my best for.”

They chatted about what they were making (James refused to blurt that he was making something for Q), and about the interesting people they’d met at work (Q was a freelance web designer and security expert). Eve regaled the three men with tales from her expedition to Peru. Alec told them all with great relish about the drug smugglers who had been caught and were to be tried soon. James admitted he was still looking for an instructor for a class or two.

Q shrugged when Eve asked what was new in his world, and answered, “I’m thinking about getting another cat. Ada is twelve, after all. I just don’t know if she’d allow for another. She hated that kitten John tried to give me.”

“Which John?” Eve asked, “You’ve dated at least eleven.”

“Only three!” Q protested, blushing scarlet, “And the one barely counts because it was only two dates.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot. You actually have _standards_.” Did James imagine the way her eyes flicked over to him as she said it?

Q scowled. “I know you have standards too. They’re just different from mine.”

“But of course, darling,” Eve replied cheerfully, patting his knee. “Not all of us want a Brainiac.”

“Then what _do_ you want?” Alec asked with a roguish smirk, completely forgetting subtlety.

Eve seemed startled, then chuckled, smiling slyly. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find out,” she purred.

James and Q exchanged looks, James amused, Q exasperated. They were saved from having to pull their friends apart by the food finally arriving. James and Alec munched happily on an extra-large meat lover’s pizza with jalapeños, while Q and Eve shared a pepperoni.

When they finished, Alec offered to walk Eve home, and James offered to drive Q. Eve accepted; Q did not.

“It’s not that far,” Q claimed, smiling a little. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”

James nodded, trying not to look too disappointed. It wasn’t like this was a double-date or anything, no matter how quickly Eve and Alec had decided to get along. This was just some friends going out for dinner. Nothing more.

He berated himself in his head the entire walk home. How dare he presume things. How dare he think that, just because Q liked holding his hand, he’d want to be walked home. How dare he want to kiss Q when he didn’t even know how Q felt. How dare he.

He sighed heavily as he trudged up to the door of the shop. And he still didn’t know why Q had come by in the first place.

~~~\0/~~~

Q buried his face in his pillow and screamed.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_! He could have accepted that offer! He could have given James his address! He could have kissed him at the door! But no, no, he had to go all shy and uncertain. Never mind that James had looked at him like that, held his hand liked that, spoken to him like that… all so softly, all so… affectionately?

The soft thump and dip of a weight leaping on to the mattress beside him; an inquiring chirrup. Q turned his head to see Ada peering into his face. Seeing that she had his attention, she began to purr, and butted her head against his cheek.

“You beautiful darling,” Q whispered, stroking her silk-soft fur. “You always make it better. How do you do that?”

She just kept purring.

He got up after another few minutes of wallowing and filled her puzzle-bowl for dinner. Then he went in his crafting room, where Ada was not allowed, and set about blocking the pieces for his jumper. Working calmed him down. He wasn’t stupid. He’d just been uncertain, and done the right thing. Next time James asked, he would accept. If there was a next time.

For some reason, Q didn’t doubt that there would be.

~~~\0/~~~

James spent the next week hoping Q would come by, and also telling himself that his hopes were unfounded and perhaps a little ridiculous. Q had things to do, a life to live. He’d also already stocked up. He wouldn’t need anything for a while.

Except that, exactly seven days after the not-at-all-a-double-date, Q walked in to the store and walked right up to the counter, where James was perusing several crocheting magazines for ideas for Q’s scarf. James looked up, startled, and smiled.

“Q! I didn’t expect you so soon,” he admitted, quietly closing the magazines and tucking them under the counter.

“Yes, well,” Q said, then plowed on with, “I’d like to try being instructor for one of your classes. If you haven’t found one already.”

“A few of the intermediate students want to move on to more complicated cable-knitting,” James offered. He knew Q loved cables; he’d often brought in samples of experiments he’d done, just to show off to James, who could barely manage a two-cable braid, but did enjoy the shapes.

Q’s eyes lit up, and he smiled. “I finally mastered seven-cable braids,” he told James, excitement entering his voice. “I made a shawl for my mother with a seven-cable braid and she said she loves it.”

James’ eyebrows rose. “That’s impressive,” he commented, and he meant it. Q had told James that he was a “safe” knitter, but this was far outside Q’s safety. “Alright, if you’re available next Tuesday eleven to two—“

“Absolutely!”

James grinned at Q’s enthusiasm. “Then you’d better come by, and bring some samples. I’ll tell everyone. Thank you, Q. Really.”

Q smiled back, the tips of his ears and his cheeks turning pink. “You’re welcome. Oh, that’s what I forgot—my yarn-box cracked, after twelve years. Do you have the same brand?”

“I have something even better. Only the best for my best customer.”

He led Q to the part of the shop that held the knitting supplies, and bypassed the plastic boxes to show Q the wooden ones that James had picked up for a song at an estate sale just a few days ago. The woman who’d owned them had been a woodworker, but her heirs hadn’t wanted her unfinished pieces, so they’d sold them. James took them, finished the odd rough edges, stained or painted them (he was a dab hand at painting when he was in the mood), and set them out to sell them. He’d already sold two of seven.

Q immediately gravitated to the one painted black, and inspected it with a smile. “This is perfect,” he murmured, lifting the lid. “Ada can’t lift this, and it should keep most of her shed out. How much?”

“Free,” James answered before he could stop himself.

Q stared at him. “Huh?”

“You can have it,” James repeated. “You’re going to be an instructor, you need compensation.”

“No I don’t,” Q objected, beginning to frown worriedly. “I was just going to do it for free.”

“Well, then, take it as a gift,” James replied stubbornly.

“But—“ Q looked at James’ stubborn frown and sighed. “Fine. I don’t want to take money from you, that’s all.”

“I make enough that I can afford to give a gift to my friend,” James answered. “Please, Q.”

“I already said I would, didn’t I?” Q smiled a little at the look James gave him. “Alright, so I didn’t really. I will take this box. But you are _not_ paying me just for teaching people to knit. No buts.”

James shut his mouth, but smiled smugly. A win. Not a _complete_ win, but a win nonetheless. He still didn’t know what game they were playing, or why they were playing it at all, but it was fun.

The bell over the door tinkled. James sighed. “Well, back to work, then,” he murmured.

Q nodded, hefting the box up in his arms. “Goodbye, James. And thank you.” He smiled, and James smiled back, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Goodbye, Q. And you’re welcome.”

~~~\0/~~~

Q dropped off the yarn box at home, then went out to meet Eve.

They met at the kebab shop Q frequented, and ate their greasy repast joyfully. Then they wandered to the nearest bridge over the Thames and watched the boats pass, talking about nothing.

Then Q mentioned that he was going to be teaching at James’ shop, and Eve immediately began to bombard him with questions.

“So does he know yet? Have you told him? Why didn’t you tell him? Doesn’t matter, you’ll have other chances. When are you planning on telling him? Did you know he feels the same way? Alec told me. Why are you shaking your head?”

“He can’t,” Q answered, blushing furiously. “He just… he can’t.”

“Why not?” Eve shot back, eyes glittering. “You’re attractive, you’re smart, you share interests with him. He’d have to be either blind or stupid to not fancy you at least a little bit. And he’s definitely not either of those things. And the way he acts and speaks around you—the last time I saw someone act like that, my mother married the man. I’m not saying you should marry, I’m just saying, you should give it a chance.”

Q shook his head again, uncertainly this time. But he wanted it to be true. He wanted Eve to be right.

“I’ll… wait a little longer,” he murmured, staring at his hands, clenched on the rail. “I’ll give it a chance, but not right now. I want to be sure, Eve.”

She sighed, but wrapped her arm around his shoulders and leaned her head against his. “I know, love. I know.”

~

The next Tuesday, Q packed his travel case with samples, yarns, and needles. He kissed Ada’s head gently before hurrying out of the flat.

He’d never been to James’ shop when there was a class. James opened a backroom for them, and when Q entered the shop, there were several women already there, chattering. Q glanced around, looking for James, suddenly nervous; but James was caught up explaining the differences between different worsted yarns. So Q took a deep breath and walked over to the backroom, smiling as the four women looked up at him. “Hello. I’m—“

“We know who you are,” the oldest woman interrupted with a completely dead expression.

“Now, Dolores,” another woman said, but didn’t actually move to do anything about Dolores’ rudeness.

“Ah,” Q said, but before he could say anything else, he was interrupted again.

“Forgive my saying so, but you look too young to be as good as Mr. Bond claims,” a third lady commented, looking doubtful.

The fourth woman just sniffed and went back to her work.

“I’ve been knitting for thirty years,” Q told them, only a little stiffly.

“That doesn’t mean you know what you’re doing,” Dolores pointed out.

“Dolores, that’s not very nice.”

“Be quiet, Penny. I am ninety-two years old, I’ll say what I like.”

“Yesterday it was eighty-eight,” the fourth woman muttered.

Penny sighed. Then she smiled at Q and introduced the four of them. “I’m Penny. This is my step-father’s mother, Dolores. That’s Sunny,” the third woman cast another doubtful glance at Q, “And that’s Chrysanthemum.”

“Chrys for short,” Chrysanthemum grunted, finishing her row.

“Pleasure to meet all of you,” Q replied politely.

Two teenage girls entered the room, saw Q, and began giggling. He did not frown. Instead he looked around and chose a chair near the front, before pulling out his five-cable braid that he was going to use as a panel in his next cardigan and getting to work. He could feel various stares on him, but he ignored them, relaxing and settling into his rhythm. Coding and design were fun, challenging, and exciting, but knitting was his favorite.

When almost all the chairs were filled, a stunningly gorgeous Indian woman walked in, and stood at the front of the room. Q put down his knitting immediately.

“Hello everyone,” she greeted them all with a smile. “Today we have a new face. Please say hello to Q; he will be teaching cable knitting.”

“Boys don’t knit, though,” one of the teenagers whispered to her friend, a little too loudly.

“My brother does,” Q answered. “So does my father. So does James, out front. Lots of boys knit. It’s a unisex skill.”

The girl blushed. Dolores glared at him from across the room. Q looked back at her curiously, wondering what he’d done this time.

There was a round of introductions, and then Q, the teens, Penny, and Chrysanthemum were sat in a corner and given all the materials they needed. Q took a breath. No time like the present.

“Right, how much do you each know?” he asked, meeting all their eyes in turn so they’d know he was really listening to all of them.

They told him. Surprisingly, the teenagers, Annie and Alex, were the best, already making up their own patterns and testing them. Q showed them some of his examples, and they enthusiastically began attempting to copy them, without any written pattern or instructions. Penny was ambivalent towards the whole thing; apparently she was only here because Dolores was, and had discovered her gift for knitting completely by accident. Chrysanthemum muttered as she worked, and often had to rip out stitches, but her finished pieces were very nice. Q told her so, and some of the scowl-lines on her face eased.

It was quite fun, actually. And when the end of the class came, he had instilled some confidence in all four of his students, and they left with, if not smiles, then eased expressions.

Q was packing up when James popped his head through the door and smiled. “How’d it go?” James asked.

“Excellently,” Q replied warmly, hefting his bag over his shoulder. “I believe Annie and Alex are going to start an Etsy selling their cable designs.”

James chuckled. “I knew they’d do well. Lunch?”

“That’d be lovely.”

It was only as Q preceded James out the front door that he realized that James had just asked him on a date, and he’d accepted.

But it had felt so casual! He hadn’t had to think about it. Maybe… James hadn’t thought about it either? That would be a mixed blessing indeed.

Q firmly pushed such thoughts away. He was going to enjoy this lunch, damn it, no matter if it was intentional or not. And he hoped James enjoyed it too.

~~~\0/~~~

James didn’t know how that offer had slipped out, but he knew he was elated that Q had agreed so readily. So when he’d locked up the shop, he offered his hand, and almost beamed when Q took it without hesitation. He settled for a pleased expression, which became even more pleased when Q laughed a little.

It was a nice afternoon for walking, and they wandered past many establishments, before Q tugged on James’ hand and urged him to cross the street. James followed willingly.

It was a little kebab shop, where Q was obviously a known customer; before long they were eating at a tiny table, ignoring the odd looks they were getting. After a few mouthfuls, James brought up the subject of what Q had thought of the class, and if he would mind doing it again.

Q smiled at him, lips shiny with grease. “I’ll only do it if we can go out for lunch after again,” he replied mischievously.

James smiled back. “Deal.”

After they’d finished their food, they set out, holding hands again because James was a greedy, hedonistic bastard. He particularly enjoyed how Q walked a little closer beside him, and didn’t back off when they were in more populated areas.

“I live this way,” Q suddenly said, tugging James’ hand again.

James’ heart began to thump like a jackrabbit. “Alright,” he replied, and followed Q’s lead.

They came to an old block of flats, where weeds grew in the cracks in the pavement and the buildings looked old and tired. James looked around curiously. So this was where Q lived and spent most of his days. It… didn’t really seem like the place for him. But, then again, if he liked it, that was all that mattered.

Q was watching him anxiously. James smiled at him. “It’s certainly got character,” he commented.

Q’s smile was all relief and pride. “It certainly does,” he answered, and led the way to the proper door. James waited while Q found his keys, trying to steel himself against what he was about to ask for.

“Ah… Q…”

“Yes?” Q looked up at James, and the light sparkled in his eyes and on his glasses and brought out the chocolate tones in his hair and his mouth was still red from scrubbing off grease and it spilled out before James could think of a better way to say it.

“MayIkissyouplease?”

“…What?”

“May I…” James looked down for a moment and swallowed hard, then took a breath, raised his head, and repeated, “May I kiss you, please?”

Q stared at him. For a long time. Long enough that James began to feel very awkward and nervous. Had he done something wrong? Had he moved too fast? Was Q angry at him? Frightened by him? Or just sad that something friendly had turned into more?

James opened his mouth to apologize, but Q put his keys in his pocket, put his hands on James’ face, pulled him down, and kissed him, ever so gently.

“Yes,” Q breathed.

James got over his stunned amazement quickly, and wrapped his arms around Q securely as he kissed back. Oh, it was glorious.

When they finally parted, James croaked, “There’s another class tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Q whispered, and smiled.

~~~\0/~~~

**Five Months Later**

“So this is him?”

“Yes,” Q said with a smile.

“Hello,” James greeted Q’s family with a charming smile. Even if they were just faces on a screen for now, he had to make the best impression possible.

Q’s family—his mother, siblings, nieces, nephews, and siblings-in-law—all crowded ‘round the computer to size up the man sitting beside their Q with his arm around Q’s shoulders.

“Do we need to have the shovel talk?” Sarah’s husband, Ethan, asked sternly.

Q laughed. He was doing a lot of that these days. “No, Eve already has. He knows not to break me.”

James bit back a rather suggestive reply that pointed out Q’s ability to bend, and instead just squeezed Q’s shoulders gently.

At the end of the conference call, which lasted an astounding two hours, Q and James just sat back in their chairs for a few minutes, snuggled together. Just as James turned his head to kiss Q’s temple, Q stood suddenly and trotted to his craft room. James frowned, then stood and followed him. Ada and the new kitten, Marie, followed James, Ada sauntering, Marie pouncing on James’ heels.

James leaned in the doorway of the craft room and watched Q search for… something. Q noticed him standing there and smiled, then found whatever he was looking for.

“I made this a few days after our first date,” Q explained, striding over. “I just keep forgetting to give it to you.”

James took the little creation from Q, and laughed. It was a knitted doll, made to look as much like Bond as possible for yarn. It wore a suit, though, and while James did own a few, he rarely wore them. But it was still cute.

“I even gave it back-dimples,” Q added smugly.

James laughed again and swept Q up in his arms to kiss him breathless. “You are just the most adorable human being, you know that?”

“I know.”


End file.
